Chapter 15
Thea leans against the archway to the ballroom and worries her lip. “Are you sure about this?”
Dinner ended an hour ago, and couples twirl to music on the dance floor. Men and women lounge on low chairs and settees scattered throughout the room as a breeze flits through from the balcony.
“What other choice do I have?”
“But what if she hurts you? What if she does have power?”
“She doesn’t.” I press myself against the wall and scan the room for Caelus. “And she won’t, hurt me that is. Not in front of everyone at least.”
“Right.” Thea drags her heel over the carpet. “But still, promise you’ll be safe?”
I smirk. “As safe as pretending to be a pirate in a deadly competition?”
We share a smile, and the gleam of her teeth cuts through the tension. I study her face, searching for a hint of my first mate, but her eyes are flat, the blue ring around her pupils calm. There’s no recollection beyond what courtesan Thea remembers.
A stone settles in my gut, and I add it to the collection—a growing mountain of guilt. Perhaps one day it’ll be high enough to climb out of. Or crush me.
I straighten my bodice and run my fingers through my hair, coaxing the curls into place. “You don’t need to worry about me. This is my job, is it not?”
My hands pause on the ends of my hair. Across the space, Kressa lounges on a low couch, sipping whiskey out of a short glass. And, like I called her name, our gazes lock.
It’s as if a black pit opened in the center of the room and sucked out the air, leaving my lungs empty and aching. A tingle creeps up the base of my neck, and she takes a sip of her drink, piercing eyes staring at me over the rim.
I swallow hard and paint an uninterested smirk on my face. I am Briar, Princess of the Sea. I am feared. Kressa may know I have a dagger strapped to my thigh, but she’s unaware I’m a weapon far deadlier than any blade.
“Do you really think this is a wise decision?” Thea whispers. She grabs two glasses of champagne from a passing server and hands one to me.
“No.” I take a sip and let the bubbles clear my thoughts and calm my stomach. “But I’ve never been known for my wisdom.”
With the confidence of the most feared captain in the world, I pin back my shoulders, lift my chin, and stalk across the room in slow, languid steps. Kressa watches every movement, every sway of my hips. Her free hand taps the arm of the couch in time to my footsteps.
I pause before her. “May I join you?”
“By all means.”
I sink to the couch, and nothing but inches separate our legs. Since dinner ended, she’s undone the top two buttons of her shirt, and her hair dips into the space between her breasts. Freckles dot the skin there like a constellation.
She regards me with a slow sweep of her eyes. “It’s easier to admire how beautiful you are when I don’t have a blade to my throat.”
I let out a hum. “Don’t speak too soon.”
A low chuckle. “Ah, there she is. I was beginning to think I imagined being pinned against a wall, the tip of a dagger at my throat. Surely the same woman who did that wasn’t the same one who fell to the king’s feet and apologized for being late to dinner.”
My jaw clenches, and I look away, sucking in my cheek. “I believe I gave you the wrong first impression.”
She shakes her head, teeth skimming her bottom lip. Setting her drink on the low table, she slides closer until our legs touch. Her arm weaves behind me and rests on the back of the settee, her finger drawing small circles on the bare skin of my shoulder.
My breath turns ragged, serrated. Like her presence thins the air and makes my lungs work twice as hard.
She dips her mouth to the arch of my ear, her hair weaving into mine. “You mean to tell me”—her hand skims my knee and trails a slow line up my thigh—“there isn’t a deadly blade strapped around your inner thigh?”
Blood rushes up my neck and spreads across my cheeks. Her gaze pins me to the couch like a weight, and I shake my head. “Of course not.”
Her lips tilt into a knowing smile, and her fingers inch up, over the thin fabric of my dress, and brush the tip of the sheath.
“Of course not,” she whispers.
She spreads her palm out over my thigh. The warmth of her touch seeps through the dress, under my skin, and into my bones. I wrap my hand around her wrist and dig my nails into flesh.
She tsks. “Quite violent, aren’t you?”
“Does it intimidate you,” I snarl between gritted teeth, “to know I could pull it out and sink it into your chest?”
“Not in the slightest, love.” She drags her thumb over my jaw and stops at my chin, holding my head in place. “But I know not to underestimate you.”
I reel myself in, steadying my thoughts. “I’m not here to threaten you, Kressa.”
She leans closer, and the green outer ring of her eyes darkens. “I don’t remember telling you my name, Briar.”
My breath hitches. I jerk my face from her grip and cross my legs, feigning indifference. “I don’t remember telling you mine either.”
“Ah, but the guards have a lot to say about the king’s favorite courtesan.” She reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “But interestingly enough, no one mentioned her being an accomplished thief.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. “I came to apologize, nothing else.”
She unravels the champagne glass from my fingers and sets it beside hers. “You’re a horrible liar.”
“Liar?”
Without explanation, she rises to her feet and extends a hand. “Dance with me?”
I stare at her outstretched hand as music floats through the room, and the bow of a violin whines against its strings. In the opposite corner, I catch Isolde’s gaze.
Her fingers tighten around the stem of her wineglass, tension bracketing her shoulders as she glances between Kressa’s outstretched hand and me.
My chest tightens.
“Well?” Kressa says.
The last thing I want is to trap myself on the dance floor with her, but Isolde understands what I have to do. She knows what Caelus is asking of me. And I have to get something out of Kressa—anything that will get her pulled from the competition.
Stomach sinking, I tear my attention away from Isolde and accept Kressa’s hand, rising to my feet. “I’d love to.”
She cocks her head, a maddening tilt to her lips. “Can I trust you not to stab me while we waltz?”
I drag a hand down her arm, the cuff ending at her elbow. “You should never trust me.”
“Likewise.” She settles her hand on the small of my back. “Let’s go talk about the agreement you made with the king about spying on me.”
The blood drains from my face.
I open my mouth, ready to spin an intricate lie, but she drags me through the crowd to the dance floor. I settle a shaky hand on her shoulder, the other wrapped in her palm as she pulls me close.
My heart smashes against my ribs, and a longing note fills the air.
She sweeps me into a waltz and presses her lips against the shell of my ear. “I’m offended you find me so gullible.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She clicks her tongue. “I was suspicious at dinner, but do you know what gave it away?”
“I assume you’re going to tell me anyway.”
A chuckle. “The way you looked at me while we were eating. It wasn’t a simple glance, or even a curious one. It was the way I look at my marks. You were studying me, attempting to pick me apart, find my weaknesses, see how you could get close.” She scoffs. “But, you never will.”
I try to rip myself out of her grip. She tightens her hold on me, keeping me too close to reach for my weapon.
I manage to pull back far enough to look her in the eye. “Did you ever consider that perhaps I simply enjoyed the view?”
“Now that, I’d believe.” Her eyes hold mine, unwavering. “But I see through you, and I know that wasn’t it.”
“You know nothing about me.” My words are clipped, biting as the tempo picks up and our feet quicken.
“I know enough to know you wouldn’t want the king finding out about the jewels you hand over to pirates. The women you trade for them.”
I stiffen, narrowing my eyes as the champagne turns to acid in my stomach. “Is that a threat?”
“I don’t threaten, love.” She breaks eye contact long enough to untuck my hair from my bodice and drape it over my shoulder. “I simply do.”
“Blackmail, then. What do you want from me?”
Every hint of amusement wipes from her face, and her lips press into a thin line. “I’m looking for someone.”
Her list.
Ice fills my veins, and I will my voice into submission as I whisper, “Who?”
“It doesn’t matter. But I have reason to believe Caelus is holding him prisoner in the castle, and you’re going to help me.”
Him? I rack my brain for her list, but there weren’t any other names—no marks left but me. But whoever he is…
“That’s why you joined The Gales,” I say. “Unrestricted access to the castle.”
“And you won’t tell anyone.”
“What if I do?”
“I won’t hesitate to tell Caelus exactly who took all those precious gems from the nobles.” Her fingers tighten around my waist, my hand. “If you ruin this, I’ll ensure you rot in a dungeon.”
I dig my nails into her shoulder. “Or perhaps you will.”
She clicks her tongue. “Such harsh words from someone who also benefits from this arrangement.”
“How so?”
She spins me out, and in a blur, pulls me in, tucking me close to her chest. “You help me find who I’m looking for, and you get to tell Caelus you’re spending extra time with me, trying to get information. A perfect excuse to avoid him.”
My lip curls. “What makes you think I want to avoid him? He’s the king, after all.”
“It’s impressive how you’ve convinced an entire kingdom that you’re interested in him.” A laugh, laced with sarcasm and a hint of pity. “I see the way you look at him, the way your hands curl into fists when he touches you. You loathe him.”
I shake my head. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I? I’m quite observant, Briar.” She hums, low and rumbling.
“So, am I also imagining the way my touch makes you shudder?” She drags her hand from the small of my back to the tip of my spine, cradling my nape with her palm.
“I can almost hear your heart racing.” On an exhale, she lowers her mouth to my ear. “Perhaps you like the view after all.”
Heat laps at my core, but I pull back and lower my voice to a snarl. “I wish I killed you when I had the chance.”
She grins, wisps of hair hanging over her eyes. “Beautiful, awful liar.”
The music fades and comes to a halt. Dancers around us stop and bow to each other, but we stay standing, locked in a glare.
Finally, she unravels herself from me and bows. I don’t return it.
“It’s been a pleasure,” she says. “I’ll see you in my room after tomorrow’s trial.”
“If you survive.”
Her lip quirks. “Good night, Briar.”
She turns on her heel and strides from the ballroom. I narrow my eyes on her back, burning a hole straight through her shoulder blades and into her heart.
She cannot walk out of tomorrow’s trial alive.